


be still for a while

by limned



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limned/pseuds/limned
Summary: She’s never told him straight out, but she’s circled around it enough that he knows how much she likes finding him in her bed this way.





	be still for a while

Clint hears the first set of lock tumblers before they’re halfway clicked over, but he’s not fully out so he doesn’t come awake with the usual combat snap. Instead it’s a nice easy transition from dozing to alertness, and he only shifts under the blanket and turns his head. He listens drowsily as the door opens and closes, the locks click shut again, and then quiet footsteps move down the hall.

There’s enough light from the windows that he can see Natasha trying not to smile when she pauses in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoes, and watches her snatch another sideways look as she comes into the room, which makes him hold back his own smile. She’s never told him straight out, but she’s circled around it enough that he knows how much she likes finding him in her bed this way. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. It was just long.”

“Uh-huh. I kinda noticed.”

He’d sure as hell noticed when she was gone nineteen days past the longest range that the mission intel had projected, but it’s fine now, as she drops her bag and shrugs out of her jacket and leans down to unlace her boots.

It’s a bit of a surprise when she doesn’t immediately head for the shower. Clint rolls over on his back and watches as she pulls off her shirt and unzips her jeans, which is as far as she gets before her shoulders slump with apparent exhaustion.

It’s more of a surprise when she turns and climbs on the bed. He barely has time to blink before she stretches out right on top of him, tucking her face into his neck before she goes still. “Hey,” he says, sliding his arms carefully around her. “Tasha, you hurt anywhere?”

Natasha’s voice is a low murmur under his ear. “No, just tired. I haven’t had much sleep for a while.”

He rubs his hands slowly over the warm skin of her back and shoulders, tracing along the straps of her bra. She smells like fresh soap, the soft curls of her hair slightly damp against his cheek. “You showered at HQ?” he asks, even though it’s obvious. It’s another surprise, because her routine is getting clean once she’s home and away from the mission, something she’s been doing for much longer than they’ve been sleeping together.

“Mmm,” she agrees, and pauses long enough that he can tell she’s considering her words. “I knew you’d be here.”

 _Oh._ Clint is speechless for a few seconds, because it’s almost the most open thing she’s ever said to him. “Well, yeah. Of course I am,” he manages. He tries to keep his breathing even since she’s definitely going to notice any changes when she’s lying on top of his chest.

She also isn’t going to miss the fact that he’s getting hard underneath her. He holds as still as he can, but their hips are lined up and he’s touching her bare skin and she basically admitted that she wanted to see him as soon as possible, so there’s no way this problem is going away. He knows that she can feel him against her thigh. After a quiet minute where she doesn’t move or acknowledge it, he tightens his arms around her a little and mutters, “Sorry.”

Natasha chuckles, and he wants to shiver at the puff of her breath against his collarbone. “I haven’t seen you for six weeks, Barton. You’d have some explaining to do if that wasn’t happening right now.”

He laughs and drops a kiss on her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I just meant -- you’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Mmm. I need to get undressed.”

But she doesn’t move away, and after another minute of silence, she leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. He turns his head to return it, pressing his lips against her cheek. “You need to sleep,” he murmurs.

She makes an ambiguous sound and lifts her hand, using two fingers to tip his jaw toward her. Her lips are soft and undemanding, brushing over his and pulling back before she kisses him again, and he responds the same way. By the fifth or sixth time her tongue is pressing lightly into his mouth but it isn’t urgent, doesn’t build up, her mouth still relaxed and wandering.

Clint’s chest is a little tight because this is new; they don’t really do this. Usually they’re almost ripping into each other, especially after missions. He can count on one hand the number of times that she’s kissed him so quiet and slow, and it’s never at the start.

“Tasha,” he whispers, pulling back a little. He’s keeping his hands wrapped around her lower back despite how much they want to wander. “C’mon. Sleep.”

“Yeah,” she says on an exhale, and drops her head to kiss the side of his jaw. “Don’t want to get up, though. Help me take my jeans off.”

His options are slightly limited when she isn’t moving to climb off him, and when he doesn’t want her to do that anyway. He finally hooks his fingers into her belt loops and pulls her up on his body, high enough that he can reach down to peel her jeans over her hips. He bites down on his lower lip because she’s still wearing her bra but her breasts are pressed nearly into his face, and she shifts enough to kick the jeans away before sliding down to relax on top of him again. “Unhook me?”

“Right,” he says hoarsely, because god, he’s so hard. The blanket is still between them, but he stripped down before bed so it’s seriously not enough, not after having her move up and down against him, and his hands feel stupidly clumsy as he unfastens her bra.

Natasha sighs and he reaches between their bodies to rub his knuckles along her ribcage, the spots she always massages when she removes her bra after a long day. She makes a quiet noise and slides her hands up around his shoulders, giving him better access to touch her, and when she kisses him again, cupping the back of his neck with one hand, Clint decides he’s done with trying to convince her to sleep.

But he doesn’t know exactly what’s happening either, because she keeps kissing him the same way, unhurried and gentle, her tongue tracing barely inside his lips. He doesn’t dare to intensify it when Natasha isn’t showing any signs of doing that herself, and he doesn’t even want to. He has no idea if this is only happening because she’s exhausted and half-awake, but it feels too good to stop. He’s never had this much time to just kiss her and run his hands over her skin.

He feels like he’s been hard for hours when she breaks the pattern, raising her foot to push the blanket away as she skins her underwear off in a slow, graceful twist. His cock settles in the warm curve of her hip and he moans, trying not to press too firmly into her. “Natasha,” he breathes against her lips. “Fuck, I want you.”

“I’m here,” she says in a thick, low voice, and pushes her tongue lightly against his, moving barely enough to spread and lower herself down on his cock.

Clint makes a noise he can’t even identify, a ragged choked sound that seems like it's pulled out of his guts, she feels so _good_ , she’s so wet, so tight and clenching around him.

And somehow it hasn’t changed, they’re still pressed together and kissing languidly, light brushes and tongues slipping together before they break apart to breathe. Natasha is hardly moving on him, just the slightest rocking of her hips, up and down maybe an inch at a time. She’s making the tiniest sounds, gorgeous little moans that she presses against his lips every time she takes him all the way, and he can’t stop moving his hands over every inch of her body that he can reach. Her fingers are tensing and relaxing around his shoulder and neck with barely any pressure and it’s so different that he can’t understand it at all.

It feels simultaneously like it’s taken forever and five seconds when she gasps into his mouth and comes, her muscles rippling around his cock with no warning that it was going to happen. His body follows almost immediately with hardly any extra movement, two half-strokes before he’s shuddering and spilling inside her because he’s been on the edge from the beginning, and Natasha kisses him through it, her fingers scratching lightly over the nape of his neck.

“Christ, Tasha,” he whispers when he recovers a little, and can’t work up the nerve to say anything else when she smiles sleepily into his eyes and finally slides off to curl up against him.

It feels safer to kiss her again and pull the blanket up around them, and she’s asleep in the curve of his arm so quickly that it probably saves him from saying something stupid. Even if he lies awake and listens to her breathing for a long time, wishing he could’ve done it.


End file.
